


Losing Face

by JohnAmendAll



Category: Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-06
Updated: 2009-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 03:03:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnAmendAll/pseuds/JohnAmendAll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in, and diverges from, Episode 2 of <i>The Faceless Ones.</i> Who is the mysterious Michelle, and why does she want Jamie's body?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Losing Face

**Author's Note:**

> A couple of days ago I rashly made the comment that I'd never write Polly/Jamie. This is the result. Technically it still isn't Polly/Jamie, but it looks just like it.

"I knew there was something funny going on," Samantha said. "So you reckon that judy in the kiosk is your mate Polly, but she says she isn't?" 

"Aye, she says her name's Michelle or something. But she is Polly. I'd know her anywhere." 

"Well, whoever she is, she knows something about my brother. I'd swear to it." 

Jamie patted Samantha on the shoulder. "I'm sure when the Doctor gets back he'll–" 

"Waiting for the Doctor?" Samantha scowled. "Is that the only thing you can think of?" 

"Look, it's not that simple..." 

"Seems simple enough to me. How about this? You're a good skin–" 

"A what?" 

"I mean you're a good-looking bloke. You get after her and see if you can get in with her. Find out what her game is." 

"But she looks just like Polly!" 

"I'd've thought that'd make it easier. Not scared, are you, Jamie?" 

"No, but–" 

"Look, if it was a bloke, I'd do it. Like a shot. But she doesn't look like a frisby to me so it's gotta be you. So get over there and get everything she knows out of her." 

Jamie glanced to and fro, feeling like a trapped animal. 

"Look, she knows what's happened to your friend, doesn't she? Don't you want to find her?" 

"Oh, all right." Jamie rose to his feet, turned in the direction of the Chameleon Tours kiosk, then turned back. "And don't you go trying anything while I'm gone!" 

"Yeah, right," Samantha said, once she was sure he was out of earshot. 

  


"Excuse me," Jamie said. "Look, I'm sorry about that mistake earlier. I was wondering what time you got off work?" 

The woman who looked like Polly stared at him, or through him. 

"Why do you need to know?" she asked. 

"Well, I thought we might have a drink together. Sort of make up for the trouble I caused." 

"I–" She hesitated. "Will you excuse me a moment?" 

She disappeared into the back room of the kiosk, like a diving duck. Jamie heard her talking for a few seconds, then she emerged again, smiling cheerfully. 

"I'll be a few more minutes here," she said. "Then there's a bit of tidying up to do at the hangar." 

"Oh, I'll help you with that," Jamie volunteered promptly. "D'ye mind if I stick around here until then?" 

"I'd like that. Did you say what your name was? I'm afraid I don't quite remember..." 

"Jamie." 

"Oh, of course." 

"And you're Michelle." Jamie seated himself on the counter, and gave her his best smile. "From Switzerland. I've never been there. What's it like?" 

  


In the back room of the kiosk, Captain Blade sat, watching the conversation on his closed-circuit monitor. The young human's attempt to extract information was ridiculously obvious, but Michelle knew what to do. And then, the boy's body would be one more template for the Chameleons to use as they saw fit. 

*

Michelle swept through the outer area of the hangar, leading Jamie into the office before he could think of examining any of the packing cases scattered here and there. 

"Why not sit down here?" she asked, indicating a leather-upholstered couch. 

"Thanks." Jamie perched cautiously on the seat. "Didn't you say you had some tidying-up to do?" 

"It'll keep." Michelle sat down beside him, and put her arm round his shoulders. "It's so nice to meet a new friend." 

"Oh, aye?" Jamie moved a little closer to her. "D'ye find it lonely, then, working here all by yourself?" 

"It can be." 

"But not now, eh?" He felt tense, as if about to go into battle. This girl looked and sounded like Polly, but she was a spy, an enemy. And no doubt she was about to make her move. 

"Oh no." She leaned back, pulling him down onto the couch with her. "I wish I'd met you before, Jamie." 

She put her other arm round his neck, so they were face to face. Her hair, her face, her perfume were all Polly's, but the expression in her brown eyes was calculating, almost amused, alien. 

Before she could do whatever she was planning to, Jamie did the first thing he could think of, and kissed her full on the mouth. It seemed to throw her for a moment; it took a few seconds before she realised what she should be doing, and played along. When she broke off the kiss, though, she looked as composed and in control as ever. 

"You're a fast worker, aren't you?" she said, with a teasing smile. 

"I'm not as slow as I–" Jamie, without warning, threw himself off the couch, grabbing her wrist with both hands and twisting sharply. Something metallic dropped to the floor. He landed awkwardly, and before he could stagger to his feet Michelle was on him, suddenly far stronger than Polly – stronger than any human. 

"But not fast enough," she said, and kissed him again, savagely. "You're an amusing little human. Don't make me damage you." 

"Oh, and why would that be?" Jamie tried to push her off, but between the disadvantages of his reluctance to hit a woman and her greater strength, he couldn't do much. He glanced from side to side, trying to see if he could reach whatever weapon she'd dropped. "D'ye need me whole for something? For the same thing as you did to Polly?" 

"Maybe, if you're good. But otherwise, we'll kill you. So you'd better be good." 

"Good, aye?" Jamie stared up at her, trying to read her. She was breathing deeply, and there was a fine dew of sweat on her forehead, but otherwise the brief struggle didn't seem to have affected her in the slightest. "And what counts as being good?" 

Michelle ran her hands over his shoulders and arms. 

"An excellent physique," she murmured. "And this new body, so young, so _passionate_... Kiss me again." 

Jamie hesitated. 

"Or die," Michelle added, conversationally. 

*

"You really don't appreciate physical contact until you lose it," Michelle murmured, running her hand down Jamie's cheek. "I'm so glad you decided to be sensible. You'll make such a fine template." 

"Is that so?" Jamie asked. 

"And don't try to pretend you aren't enjoying yourself. I'm sure you've dreamed about your friend Polly, haven't you? Yes, I think you have. And now she's making all your dreams come true... Oh, no you don't!" 

She knocked Jamie's arm away, but not before he'd felt the band round her arm, hidden from view under her sweater. 

"What? Look, I didn't mean–" 

"No, of course not. You're just a human. You haven't got the slightest idea about any of this." Michelle shook her head. "And I think I'm getting tired of you." She began to pull away, then thought better of it. "One last kiss, perhaps. Goodbye, Jamie." 

She kissed him again, almost gently. As she did, Jamie kicked out wildly, sideways. His foot caught a free-standing rack, loaded with box files and folders, which toppled over with an almighty crash. Paper, cardboard, stationery and metal rained down; something hit Jamie's shoulder, but Michelle, who was still more or less on top of him, took the brunt of it. She screamed, the pain clear to see on her face. 

Taking advantage of her momentary disorientation, Jamie had scrambled away on all fours and made a dive for the metal object Michelle had dropped earlier. It looked small, something like a pen. His hand closed on it, but before he could do anything Michelle had grabbed him from behind, her fingernails digging painfully into his flesh. 

"Give me that," she breathed. 

Jamie shook his head. 

"You don't have a choice," she added. Still holding him with her left hand, she closed her right hand over his and began to force his fingers back. 

"I could break your fingers, if I wanted to," she hissed. "I might enjoy that." 

Abandoning all considerations of not fighting girls, Jamie kicked back at where he thought her legs were, and was rewarded with a gasp as his boot connected. The grip on his hand momentarily slackened, and he took advantage of the opportunity to skim the pen across the floor. It disappeared under a desk on the far side of the room. 

For a moment, there was silence except for their breathing. Then Michelle laughed. 

"Oh, you stupid, stubborn human!" she said. "You won't give up, will you?" 

"Never." Jamie kicked out again, but Michelle must have shifted her position. 

"Get up." He felt himself being dragged to his feet. "Get up. Now walk–" 

A door clicked open. 

"Blimey," a cheerful Liverpool-accented voice said. "You two don't do things by halves, do you?" 

"Sam, look out!" Jamie shouted. "She's–" 

Before he could finish the sentence, Michelle's arm tightened around his throat, leaving him able only to gurgle. 

"Come here," Michelle said coldly. "Or I'll break his neck." 

Samantha's footsteps approached, slowly. 

"That's better. And now– ow!" 

There was a scream and a crash. Michelle's grip around Jamie's throat abruptly slackened. He lost no time in tearing himself free and putting the width of the office between them. Only then could he take stock of the situation. Michelle was standing in the doorway, shaking her hand, which appeared to be bleeding. The blood was darker than it should have been, almost black. Samantha lay on the floor, surrounded by the smashed remains of a chair. 

"You _bit_ me!" Michelle gasped. 

"Yeah." Samantha pulled herself upright. "And I'd do it again." 

Michelle seemed to get a grip on herself. "Don't think I can't handle both of you." 

She closed the door, locked it, and advanced on Samantha with a predatory smile. Samantha backed away, gripping a hastily-salvaged chairleg so hard that her knuckles were white. Jamie hurried to join her. 

"There's something on her arm," he whispered. "The right one. Under her jumper. She didnae want me to touch it." 

"So you reckon we should touch it?" Samantha whispered back. 

"That's it." Jamie raised his voice. "Creag an tuire!" 

He launched himself at Michelle, trying to grab her arm, and reeled back from a vicious blow to the stomach. At the same moment, Samantha jumped onto Michelle's back, hanging on for dear life and trying to kick Michelle's legs from under her. Michelle, seemingly not deigning to notice the assault, crossed calmly to the desk, bent down, and picked up the pen she'd dropped earlier. 

As Michelle tried to bring the pen to bear on the flailing Samantha, Jamie grabbed at her right arm, managing to catch hold of her sleeve. It came away in his hand, revealing, just above the elbow, a black band round her arm. Michelle snarled, raised the pen, and jabbed it at Jamie; he ducked, and felt a blast of coldness pass his shoulder. Before Michelle could try again, Samantha had made a snatch for her armband. For a second, a look of horror crossed Michelle's face; then she threw herself backwards against the shelving that lined one wall, trying to smash Samantha against the sharp wooden edges. But her foot slipped on the debris from earlier; she slipped, and landed on the ground. As she shook Samantha off, Jamie landed on top of her. Four hands closed on her armband, and tugged. The black band came away, with a repulsive sucking noise. 

For a couple of seconds, Jamie stared into what still appeared to be Polly's face, set in an expression of horror. Then it distorted and dissolved, like a wax image held in the flame, dribbling away in a cascade of black slime. In moments, nothing was left except a few blackened garments and a pair of shoes, in a spreading puddle of dark, foul-smelling ooze. 

"Oh... my..." Samantha climbed to her feet and backed away from the liquid as it sluggishly spread across the floor. "We've killed her." 

"She was trying to kill us," Jamie pointed out, doing the same. 

"I know, but–" Samantha fell silent, trying to express the enormity of what they'd done. In the end, all she said was "Eurgh." 

"Are you all right?" Jamie asked. 

"I feel sick." She looked around for a window that she could open, but there was none. "And I could do with a bath and a change of clothes. What about you? I mean, she was your friend." 

"She looked like Polly." Jamie shrugged. "That's all." 

"All?" Samantha stared at Jamie. "How can you be so calm?" 

"I've seen worse." 

"What... No, don't tell me. Please. Just don't." 

"Come along," Jamie said. "Let's get back to the Doctor." 

"We're locked in, remember? And I'm not looking in _that_." She pointed at what was left of Michelle. 

"Och, don't fret. I'll get it." 

Samantha turned away while Jamie searched the heap of sodden clothes, though the sounds of dripping protoplasm were quite enough to turn her stomach. She only looked round when she heard the sound of the key in the lock. 

"Right," Jamie said. "Now, let's make ourselves scarce." A thought struck him. "And I thought I told you not to follow me?" 

"Good thing for you I don't do things just 'cos a bloke in a kilt tells me to." Now escape was in sight, Samantha seemed to be recovering her confidence. "Otherwise she'd have had you and eaten you up by now. Like spiders." 

They hurried down the steps to the hangar floor, and were cautiously picking their way between the crates when Samantha suddenly gripped Jamie's arm. 

"I heard something," she whispered. "It came from over there." 

They stopped, and listened, trying not to breathe loudly. For subjective ages they could hear nothing except their own heartbeats. Then there was a definite groan. 

"Somewhere here," Jamie whispered. 

The sounds seemed to be coming from one of the crates. Taking one side of the lid each, Jamie and Samantha lifted it off. 

"Polly!" 

"I don't believe it," Samantha said. "It's exactly like her." 

Polly's eyelids flickered, and she sat up. 

"What happened?" she asked muzzily. 

"We'll explain later. Can you walk?" 

"I'll try." Polly took Jamie's arm, and then wrinkled her nose. "Whatever's that stuff you two've got all over you?" 

"Never mind," Jamie said, helping her to her feet. "We've got to get out of here right now." 

  


As things turned out, the three of them were sitting on a bench on the main concourse by the time the explanation was over. 

"... And then we found you," Samantha said. "So you don't remember any of it?" 

"Not a thing." Polly looked from the black armband to the white one she'd been wearing. "I wonder what the Doctor will make of all this?" 

"Oh, he'll have some explanation or other," Jamie said. "He always does." 

"And this girl Michelle," Polly said. "She was just like me?" 

"Well, she looked the same and spoke the same," Jamie said. "But I canna speak for whether she kissed the same." 

"You kissed her?" Polly sounded half-horrified, half-amused. 

"Well, she kissed me," Jamie admitted. He'd rather skated over that bit of the story, deeming it inappropriate for the ears of young ladies. 

"Yeah," Samantha added. "And the rest. You should have seen that room. Not a single bit of furniture left in one piece by the time I got there." 

Polly's eyes opened even wider. "Jamie!" 

"I couldn't help it!" Jamie protested. "She was stronger than me!" 

"Really?" The amusement was back. "So you got beaten by a woman? Who looked like me?" 

"Well... yes." 

"But you don't know if she kissed as well as me?" 

Jamie shook his head, blushing. 

Polly put her hand on his arm. "Would you like to find out?" 


End file.
